Out of His Element
by W. Shepard
Summary: When the Lone Wanderer travels to The Mojave Wasteland on a Brotherhood mission, things don't go as he first planned. He and his four friends must fight against all odds to overcome this unknown, and deadly, world.


**Out of His Element**

**Chapter One- Arrival**

**A/N: This is a remake of my first ever story, Out of His Element. Please leave reviews and let me know how I'm doing.**

His footsteps echoed out of the train tunnel, the steady rhythm of one foot after the other overlapped every other sound in the Mojave Wasteland. Stepping from the darkness of the tunnel, Joshua Scot looked across the vast sea of earth that stood between him and his goals, his aviator glasses shining in the sunlight. He wore a set of Brotherhood Power Armor, the rank of Sentinel proudly displayed on his right shoulder. On his left shoulder, shown in bright colors was a picture of Vault-Boy, and strapped across his back was an AK-47. He was brought out of his trance from a wet nose nudging his hand. Scot bent down and scratched Dogmeat behind his ear, causing the happy dog to pant and lean into his hand.

"Looks like we have quite the journey ahead of us don't we boy," He asked the canine. Dogmeat barked happily, his tail quickly wagging.

Scot smiled down at him, and removed his backpack from his shoulders, setting it on a nearby flat rock. He rummaged through it, pushing aside the ammo clips for his Chinese assault rifle, his food that he had left over from the train tunnel, and his large-bladed combat knife. His hand gripped the edge of an old piece of parchment, and he gently pulled it from the bag. It was aged, its white color had faded to yellow long ago, and rolled into a tube.

He tightly gripped one of its sides and swept it to the side, unrolling it in midair. Using several other rocks that he collected nearby, he pinned the fragile map down to his makeshift table. Scot examined it with serious interest, trying to memorize the locations and markers written across its surface. As he ran his armored finger over a town marker the wind suddenly blew sand into his blue eyes. He groaned and began to rub the annoying substance from his eyes, below him, Dogmeat barked happily.

"Yeah, I bet it's real funny to you," Scot said down to his companion, still struggling to shake the sand from his watering eyes.

Dogmeat excitedly barked again to his master, but then something caught his senses. His tail lowered, his ears perked, and his razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the sunlight. He then released a bone-chilling growl from deep within his throat, alerting Scot to the danger. Upon hearing the growl from his friend, Scot instantly stopped rubbing his eyes, and bent down over the map again. He carefully ran his finger over the parchment underneath, trying to look as if he was focused on his location. Dogmeat growled a second time, but was silenced when Scot snapped his fingers twice: _Snap snap._ The canine instantly calmed, all of his features returning to normal. Scot studied the map for a couple more seconds, just to be sure that his mysterious visitor was fooled.

Scot waited until he was able to hear a footstep behind him in the sand. He smoothly slid his gleaming knife from its sheath and swung it between his fingers, bringing the tip of the blade up dangerously close to an exposed neck. Dogmeat, being perfectly in sync with his master, spun around and sunk his teeth into the stranger's leg. She let out a startled, and painful, yelp when Scot and Dogmeat attacked. Scot held the knife to her throat, threatening the woman with death, but giving her a chance to explain herself. After Scot's eyes registered who it was that he held, his brain didn't know what to make of the person in front of him.

"Kat, what in the name of Christ are you doing here," Scot asked, his face twisted into pure confusion. The woman who Scot recognized as Kat cringed, as Dogmeat withdrew his teeth from her leg. She then pushed the knife away and rubbed her injured leg.

"Damn, Scot! If that was your way of greeting me, you're doing a pretty poor job," Kathrine said, frowning in pain. The look of confusion and surprise still hung on the man's face, as she used the rock, where his map was spread, for support as she sat on the sandy ground.

Two other men appeared from behind a nearby rock, and Scot recognized them almost immediately. The taller man, who wore a black trench coat, was his sharpshooter, Extra. The second man, shorter than Extra and about ten years younger than him, Scot recognized as Jacob. The three of them, including Scot, made up Noble Company, the squad that Scot commanded in the Brotherhood. Being a Sentinel rank, he was created and commands the squad within The Brotherhood of Steel.

"What the hell are you guys doing here? You were supposed to stay back in DC until I got back," Scot said, his voice slightly rising in anger. Kat smiled as she wrapped her injured leg with strong, white linen. Extra's face kept an emotionless and tactical look over it, like it always did, as he watched the scene in front of him. Jacob smiled and embraced Scot in a tight hug, happy to have caught up with his friend.

"We couldn't let you go on this mission by yourself. So we had Rothchild clear us for the leave," Jacob said, still smiling, he ran a hand through his short jet-black hair. Scot's face faded from anger into tired happiness, as he scanned over all of his friends, who had dropped everything to come help him.

"Thanks guys, even though you went against my wishes and followed me here, I wouldn't want to travel with anyone else," Scot said, as he helped Kathrine to her feet and embraced her warmly.

They spent another few hours going over Scot's map of the area, pointing out towns and settlements where they could purchase more supplies, and where they could rest their heads when the sun went down. Deciding that everyone was on the same page about where they were going, Scot got everyone moving towards Novac, which, according to the signs they occasionally passed while following the road, appeared to be a small town that included a motel, general store, and people who knew their way around the area. The sun began to touch the horizon as the group approached a gas station. Scot held up his hand, telling everyone to stop, and looked the mysterious structure over. It appeared abandoned, but the entrance to the small building was accessible, meaning that someone must have been there, or still remained there.

"Do you think that we should spend the night there, or find another place? If raiders have taken refuge in the gas station then we would have to clear them out before we could use it," Jacob explained to Scot, laying all of his options out for him to choose. Scot scratched the back of his head while he weighed his choices, flipping his golden-blonde hair out of his eyes.

"We are going to check the gas station out, clear out any raiders living inside and look around for any supplies. That's also where we are sleeping tonight," Scot decided, telling the others his choice. They all nodded their agreement, and slowly advanced on the small, paint-chipping building. The small team stealthily approached the only entrance, a rusted metal door which was flanked by broken windows. Jacob took position beside the door and Kathrine took the opposite side.

"Extra, take point, they will cover you from the windows while I provide you support," Scot whispered. Extra nodded expressionlessly, walked up to the door, and kicked it in with his combat boot.

The old hinges easily snapped under the force, sending the door crashing to the ground. Five raiders, who had been previously relaxing, simultaneously hesitated when they saw Extra's intimidating form. As they reached for the weapons lying nearby on the ground Kathrine and Jacob opened fire from the windows, while Scot and Extra dealt with the ones closest to them. Within seconds the raiders were dead, their bodies lying motionless on the dirty-tile floor. When the moon rose and darkness fell those bodies had been removed from the gas station, and it was now occupied with the four friends and Dogmeat, of course. The broken down gas station, the paint having faded long ago and the wooden walls rotted from the elements, now served as their sanctuary in the night.

They ate without a fire to help remain undetected from the eyes of mutated predators that stalked the night. Scot chewed his meal slowly, savoring what little taste the stale bread contained. Finishing off the bread, he pulled the map from his backpack and spread it out on the dirty ground. Pointing to a settlement marker, he informed the others that they were heading to Novac, and continuing from there towards New Vegas. Kathrine volunteered to take first watch, allowing the others to fall into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
